by CS Sealey
“But how did you know? It’s not – It’s not obvious, is it?”
“To the untrained eye, it can be mistaken easily for a fond friendship, perhaps even the love of a sibling. But to me…” Zoran shook his head. “My old eyes know better. Does she know?”
“It doesn’t matter. The time for us has long since passed. I can’t stand between them, especially not now.”
“Have you watched them together?” Zoran asked.
“I…try not to.”
“Well, I have,” the assassin said, folding his arms, “and I can tell you that the relationship is unstable and one-sided. It has been ever since I arrived, most probably even before it. She doesn’t care for him like he does for her.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re a good man, Auran. If someone came to me with bags of gold and offered me a contract to end your life, I would refuse it.”
With that, Zoran Sable rose from the bench and patted Rasmus on the back briefly. Then he strode from the room, leaving Rasmus utterly baffled.
*
The group of four moved forward slowly, one leading the way, another sitting on the box holding the horses’ reins, two on either side of the small cart of grain sacks. The foremost of the group was slouching as he walked, another was moaning about blisters, but the largest, the man with the reins, was deathly quiet as they approached the South Gate of Te’Roek.
The great doors had always been kept open during Ronnesian rule but, now, under Ayon occupation, a guard of ten soldiers stood outside the barred gates, all heavily armed and suspicious.
“Just keep your mouths shut,” the large man muttered angrily as they approached the gate. “Let me do all the talking.”
The men behind him grunted in acquiescence. There was another cart ahead of them on the path, a larger one that contained chopped wood. This vehicle was being driven by an old man and his son and the soldiers were inspecting the piles of wood in the back.
“Careful there!” the son was shouting, standing up on the driving seat and looking back. “I stacked those perfectly!”
It took the soldiers a considerable amount of time before they were satisfied that the cart was clean and waved it through without another word. The big man then flicked the reins and his two horses began to trundle forward, bringing the smaller cart with them.
“Halt there, and prepare for inspection,” the captain of the guard said, raising his hand. “You two at the back, stand aside until we’re done.”
The two men, still grumbling, joined their companion in front and watched as a few Ayons climbed into the back of the cart and began to move the sacks of flour about.
“Mainar, sir,” one of the men murmured to the larger man, “what if they suspect something?”
“Perhaps they will if you don’t shut up.”
Mainar tried to pay as little attention to the Ayons as possible and, instead, fetched a small bag from the front of the cart, opened it, and produced two carrots. He climbed down from the driver’s seat and offered them to his horses. As the animals munched, Mainar adjusted their bridles and patted their necks. Both had made the four-day journey from the coast, after all, and unlike his three companions, had not complained about it.
“You, there, driver!” one of the Ayons shouted, beckoning him over. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” Mainar asked, making his way toward him.
“This,” the Ayon guard said, holding up a relatively long metal rod with a sharp curved tip. “Explain.”
“Even better, I’ll show you,” Mainar said, holding out his hand for the rod.
The guard glanced at one of his fellows, then after the other had shrugged, handed the thing over. “If you try anything, you’ll regret it, peasant,” the guard said.
“I’m sure I would.”
Mainar moved back to the horses, the guards close behind him. He crouched in front of the left one and then patted the beast’s left front foot, uttering a short command. The horse immediately raised that leg and Mainar bent its foot up to show the iron shoe attached to the hoof.
“Here,” he demonstrated, using the curved end of the rod to pick out the compressed mud and dirt from the shoe. “You’ll find a whole array of tools in there for similar purposes and for fixing their harnesses. When these are the only horses you have, you learn to take care of them well. I also have replacement shoes and a large selection of spare parts for the bridles in there.”
He rose and returned to the back of the cart where he replaced the tool in its little wooden box.
“Anything else?” he asked. “We still have to find ourselves lodgings in the city and the longer you keep us out here, the longer it’ll take.”
“You’ll go when we’re satisfied,” the guard replied, pushing past him. “And watch your lip, or you’ll find yourself in a cell tonight, and your precious horses up for sale in the market.”
Mainar grumbled and returned to the driver’s seat, nodding reassuringly to his three companions.
After the guards had inspected the sacks of grain in the back, lightly patted down the four men and discovered nothing suspicious, they waved them on and moved to inspect the next cart. The great gates were opened for them and secured again once the cart had safely passed through. Inside the lower city, two Ayon soldiers approached them and told them to follow. As they began to move off, another three soldiers fell into line behind them. Mainar looked about him and was instantly aware of the changes that had been made to Te’Roek. Though over five years had passed since his last visit, he could distinctly remember the activity of the lower city but could see none of this now. Instead, the few citizens he saw in the street lowered their eyes and hurried about their business.
The soldiers were leading them to the market district, taking them along the widest roads. This meant they had to pass through one of the most crowded areas of the city where the older buildings bent forward into the street and the people hung their washing out to dry in long lines that just brushed the heads of those walking below. Mainar pushed aside a sheet as the cart slowly rattled along, glancing around as casually as he could for their guide.
No sooner had he thought they were running out of time, than he heard a high-pitched whistle from above and caught a fleeting glimpse of a man dressed in dark, loose clothes skimming across the roof tiles. For a moment, he wondered whether he had imagined it, but when he heard the shouts from the Ayon guards in front of him, he knew he had not.
“What do you think you’re doing? Clear the way!”
Mainar pushed another damp sheet out of his face to see the commotion. It appeared a small cart had overturned on the uneven cobbled road just ahead. The Ayon guards were shouting at the cart’s owner to get it back on its wheels and out of the way. Though the man was gathering together his wicker baskets and barrels as fast as he could, it was evidently not fast enough.
“Get that damned cart moved now!” a guard shouted, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and hauling him up onto his feet. “I couldn’t care less about your worthless baskets, just get them gone!”
The other guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, told the onlookers to step back and not interfere.
“Move it, now!” the first guard bellowed, shoving the man back to the floor. “You hear me? Now!”
The man got to his feet and then made to reach for his wicker baskets once more. The guard grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back, raising his fist to hit him. But he never landed the blow, for the man flew into action, twisting his body and delivering the guard a hard blow to the face with his elbow. An instant later, he was attacking the second guard, knocking the man over before he could release his sword from its sheath.
Remembering the Ayons who had been tailing the cart, Mainar turned, only to see the men sprawled on the road, each with a knife protruding from his chest. In front of them, the Ronnesian basket seller slammed his boot down onto the neck of the remaining Ayon, stilling him with a sickeni
ng crack. Then, rising, the man smoothed his hair back and nodded to Mainar.
“Evening, commander. So glad you could join us.”
“Captain Auran, I assume?”
“Correct!” the man said cheerily. “I’d love to introduce my associates but we haven’t much time.”
He quickly turned the cart back onto its wheels and kicked the wicker baskets to the side of the road. A few of the onlookers hurried forward to gather them together and put them back into the cart neatly. Mainar watched the procedure with interest, intrigued by the cooperation of some and the confusion of others.
“Right, come this way,” Captain Auran said, beckoning them.
“What about the guards?” Mainar asked, turning back. But where there had been dead Ayons moments before, there was now no sign of them at all. “What – ”
“We clean up very fast. It’s necessary on the main streets. A patrol will come down this way in a little while. Come.”
Mainar flicked the reins and the horses began to move forward. They approached an intersection and turned right into the poorest district of the lower city. Captain Auran led the way cautiously, a few of his unnamed associates flanking and tailing them.
“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to deliver some of the cart’s goods to the Ayon warehouses to prevent suspicion from arising.”
“But you just killed a patrol of their soldiers!” Mainar exclaimed. “You don’t expect them to notice that?”
“It will take a while for the individual men to be noticed, yes, but not the numbers in the army. When we take out a soldier, we try to put one of our own in his place,” Auran explained. “We gain a lot of information that way.”
They came to another intersection and, after looking briefly both ways, the Ronnesian led them on. There was a streak of black to Mainar’s left – the figure was hurrying across the rooftops once more. Instead of disappearing, however, the man vaulted off the edge of the roof and landed in the back of the cart with an almighty crunch. Mainar exclaimed in surprise and reached for the hidden blade in his boot.
“No, don’t worry about him!” Auran cried, laughing. “He’s one of us.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Mainar said breathlessly, staring at the figure now arranging his robes and patting away the lingering white specks of flour. “It’s some wonder that you didn’t break your ankles jumping from that height!”
“Is it?” the man asked, his voice muffled from behind the mask that covered the lower half of his face.
“We have to make a stop by our own warehouse before we can deliver you to the sanctuary,” Captain Auran was saying. “Most of the supplies can stay with us but they would have noted your arrival, so we can’t keep all of it. A few of our associates will take your place and deliver the remaining grain.”
“Understood.”
“The sanctuary will only be temporary, commander. As soon as we’ve arranged for some citizens to leave in your place, we can move you on to better housing. After that, it’s simply a matter of time before the assault begins. We’ll discuss the developments this evening. But, for now, let’s just get you safely off the streets.”
CHAPTER 67
The guard had visited his regular brothel twice that week; Zoran had been haunting his steps. His was not one of the names on Captain Auran’s list of prominent military officers and captains, he was merely a lowly foot soldier. In fact, it had been Lila Leshaid who had asked for Zoran’s help. One particularly cold night, moments after he had returned from prowling the streets, searching for one of his targets, she had knocked quietly on the attic room door. He had turned, perplexed, when the old woman entered, a dull lamp clutched in her hand.
“The girls have been talking to some of their friends on the other side of the city,” she had said quietly, closing the door behind her. “They tell of several men who do not pay a single pfenn for their services. They threaten the girls and punish them if they refuse to perform certain…acts. Can you help them?”
“You’re coming to me for help? I’m surprised at you, old woman.”
“These girls deserve protection just as much as any other citizen of this city!” Lila had whispered harshly. “They are no less worthy.”
“I wasn’t questioning their worth, but your apparent eagerness to come to me, when you’ve already made it quite clear you consider me beneath the filth on the streets.”
Lila had looked taken aback and then slightly angry. “It is true I’m not used to housing men of your…profession, but – ”
Zoran had held up a hand and smiled. “I will do what you ask. Besides, I am living under your roof. Just tell me who he is and where I can find him.”
“I can do better than that,” the aged courtesan had said, gesturing for him to follow her. “Some of the girls are still downstairs. They will show you who he is when they return to their own dens.”
Now the Ayon was patrolling the streets as one of five in a unit of guards. These were his usual companions and they spoke casually as they walked, occasionally glancing down alleyways or glaring suspiciously at civilians standing on street corners or lingering in dark doorways. Zoran followed the unit, stepping lightly as he crept along the tiles two stories above. The unit stopped at an intersection and then, after a quick discussion, turned down a narrow lane lined with stacked barrels and crates.
“Bloody mess,” one of the men said, kicking an overturned barrel out of his way. “This is worse than Solamar.”
“Nah,” another muttered, “Tenson. A safe haven for criminals from across the Kalladean. And, yet, they boast the best whores!”
Zoran’s target laughed with the rest and then, groaning, began to move away from his companions.
“Hey, Terran, where you going?” one asked, making to follow.
“Back off, Endrey, I’ve got to piss.”
“Why don’t you give him a hand?” another guard laughed, nudging Endrey.
“Wouldn’t touch him with a yard stick!”
“Hey, Terran! Watch out for spiders! I heard of a species round here that like to crawl into warm and dark crevices!”
“Shut up.”
Zoran followed the guard as he moved further down the alley to a doorway, then began his descent as silently as a cat. There were several ledges and windowsills providing good footholds but it was the high stack of barrels beside the Ayon that attracted Zoran’s attention. Grinning, the assassin leaned out from the building, concealed in shadow, and pushed the topmost barrel. It swayed but did not topple, full of either water or ale. Zoran pushed harder, glancing from the unit to the solitary Ayon. Finally, the barrel fell from its perch and came crashing down.
The Ayon guard, who had his trousers around his thighs, exclaimed loudly and dropped his pants to his ankles. It was all Zoran could do to keep his laughter from spilling out and giving away his presence.
“Sounds like a spider!” Endrey cried, laughing. “Up your arse, Terran?”
“I said shut up!” Zoran’s target shouted back, gathering up his pants. “I thought I saw – ”
Zoran moved deeper into the shadows as the guard quickly and somewhat anxiously struggled to finish his business. As Zoran waited, the man’s eyes shifted between the place from where the barrel had fallen and where it lay now, harmlessly on the alleyway cobblestones. The assassin, wedged into the alcove of a window, reached into the small pouch he had strapped around his waist and produced a dart. Almost entirely shrouded in the shadows himself, the Ayon hastily pulled up his trousers and tied them fast before inspecting the stack of barrels more closely.
“Can’t have just fallen…” Zoran heard the man mutter to himself as he casually tested their sturdiness. “Could’ve been a cat…Hey, Endrey, did you guys see anything?”
Zoran lowered himself into the darkness at the base of the wall a few feet behind the Ayon.
“Anything from inside your pants? I hope not!”
“Shut up! I meant up there.”
“Not a t
hing. And don’t go pushing that stack too hard now,” Endrey said. “I’d have to answer to the captain if you went and broke your neck!”
Apparently satisfied that the barrel had fallen on its own, the Ayon shrugged and made to return to his unit. Zoran drew out the dart and, holding it carefully, keeping its tip far from his own skin, he crept forward and lashed out at the Ayon’s neck, simultaneously throwing his weight against the bottom of the stack of barrels. The cry of surprise and pain was drowned out by the rumble and crash.
Slipping out of the way of the falling stack, Zoran returned to the shadows further down the alleyway and climbed up the wall to the roof. Behind him, he heard a great chorus of shouts and hurried footsteps. High above the alleyway once more, he pressed himself low against the tiles as he crept toward the commotion.
“Get those off him, quickly!” Endrey shouted.
Zoran leaned over the edge of the roof and watched as the barrels were hauled aside. Terran himself was sprawled beneath them, cut and bruised and a little dazed. The poison on the dart was a fast-working one. It would not be long before the Ayon felt the pain of it.
“Here, can you stand?” Endrey asked, offering him a hand.
“Yeah, sure.” But no sooner was he back on his feet than he hunched over and groaned loudly, clutching at his chest. The other members of his unit closed in around him.
“What is it? Your ribs?”
“No, no,” Terran gasped. “My heart, my lungs!”
He opened his mouth and released such a cry of pain that the hairs on the back of Zoran’s neck stood up. The Ayon lunged for the closest guard to balance himself but fell. He landed on the compacted earth heavily and tried to rise once more but the poison was working swiftly, flowing through his blood and closing down vital systems. He began to claw at the ground, his eyes wide with pain and his lips spotted with blood.
“Gods, what’s happening to him?” Endrey cried. “Do something!”
“Do what?” another of the soldiers shouted.
“I don’t know!”